On My Own
On My Own
It is early in the day for most.
I am just going to sleep. ‘
This will make many people angry.
But at times, I just don’t care.
I wish that I did.
A glass of wine, a pill from the doctor.
That is not enough.
Soon, it is a second glass, a second small tablet.
I have to keep up to everything; that is expected.
I have done so for so long, I don’t remember…
any other life.
Others hurt too. I see. I watch. I listen.
Everywhere, pain. Suffering!
Then there is that moment, you ask yourself???
“Do I like me anymore?”
(All drugs, alcohol or “other” should be taken in front of a mirror.
You need to see for yourself what things are doing to you…legal or not.)
If the answer is not hopeful…
then the problem is great indeed.
The burden heavy, the measure of it,
only “You” know.
Oh, and Him.
Friends,
Hope is sometimes right there.
In front of everything, seated in the best place.
Yet we “choose” to walk on, the path unknown,
Careless, reckless and dangerous to ourselves,
and even to others.
If that is happening, or worse has happened?
You have been given permission to go back.
“He” died to make it possible.
You can make it right.
It is a gift.
You are valued. You have a place.
You are loved.
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment